The Path to a Village
Helen Bar-Lev
Margaret Reid Poetry Contest for Traditional Verse 2011 (view all the winners)
Fourth Prize
never taken never even seen
now beckons
A path once a road
some bits of pavement
remain to remind, that is all
Soil has encroached foliage has narrowed it
decades have upheaved it
potholes and pebbles render walking unsteady
Lupines line this path, purple sentries saluting spring,
red anemones splashed amongst them
in the fields and at the foot of trees, all abloom now
outstretched arms touch flowers on either side
Almond trees, all blossom and fragrance,
not a leaf to intrude on their whiteness
to disturb their fluff, escort us,
dot the mountains surrounding,
bright patches on spring's green backdrop
Our legs leap, eager for the next scene,
as we meander into yet more wonders;
a butterfly, white as the petals, flutters by
There exists no path more exquisite than this
no trees more beautiful in their blossom
the sun has never been kinder in its mildness
a February Sabbath singled out by the gods
Were we to see no more beauty in our lives,
this would suffice and then another curve,
through the portal of two eucalyptus trees,
a village, deserted, emerges
Stones collapsed, grass around them,
almond trees rising through paneless windows,
roofless structures, collapsed walls,
lupine, almond, anemone, take no notice
Shadows now are long as the sun prepares its descent,
accentuating stairs leading to nowhere
four decades, more, of crumbling stone
elation subsides, sobers; war does this
